


All I Want For Christmas Is You

by Caedmon



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, First Dates, First Kiss, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Mall Santa Claus, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:27:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27758374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caedmon/pseuds/Caedmon
Summary: Crowley was a photographer for a paparazzi firm, but left at the height of his career so he could capture people's happier moments. He's glad he made the change, but he's struggled to build clientele. So he takes a job as an elf photographer at a posh shopping center. It seems like a nightmare... until he meets Santa.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 292
Kudos: 371
Collections: Good Omens Human AUs, Ineffable Holiday 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CynSyn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CynSyn/gifts).



> This is a gift for CynSyn, to whom I owe a birthday gift. She prompted this fic, and I hope you enjoy what I came up with. 
> 
> It was beta'd by Lurlur, and brainstormed with Rose_Nebula and Naro Mareau. Thank all you ladies!
> 
> I'll be posting every Saturday until Christmas. It fills the Ineffable Holiday 2020 prompt: "Santa"
> 
> This story actually has four chapters - the first three, that tell a complete, sweet, sfw story, and then the fourth that is just bonus smut. So I'm posting them separately. If you can think of a title for the fourth chapter, I'd be grateful.

Crowley tapped his foot anxiously as he waited in the empty office, drumming his fingers on his portfolio. He'd put in over a dozen applications over the last few weeks, and this was the only job that had called him back. It wasn't his dream job, not by any stretch, but he didn't need to have his dream job. Honestly, he already had that - he’d gotten it when he left the paparazzi and celebrity firm he’d been with to strike out on his own. Crowley had always wanted to be a photographer, to capture the best moments of people’s lives as opposed to stealing private moments from people as he did when he was a paparazzo: weddings, new babies, birthdays, engagements and the like. He’d had a few clients like that over the years, as a side job, but now he wanted to do it full time. And he was _good_ at what he did. He had the portfolio to prove it. But when he’d left his old job a couple of months ago, he hadn't expected it to be quite this hard to build clientele. He’d done everything right so far to drum up business, leaving business cards and fliers in places potential customers were likely to be, and he’d gotten a few nibbles. He even had a handful of jobs lined up through the end of the year and into the next. But while his nest egg was decent, it wasn’t _enormous_ , and he needed steady work. This job as a photographer at the North Pole of Celestial Arcade seemed to be just the ticket. It was just for the Christmas period, then it would be wedding season. Crowley could make it. He could. He knew he could. 

The door to the office opened and a man came in, dressed in a suit, looking harried. Crowley shot to his feet, his heart speeding up, and the man looked surprised to see him. 

“Who are you?” he demanded, looking wary. 

Crowley offered his hand. “I’m Crowley. I’m here about the photographer job?”

“Oh, right. Yes. Thank Christ.” 

That struck Crowley as odd, but he just shook the man’s hand. 

“I’m Gabriel Messenger. Gabriel.”

“Gabriel. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Please have a seat,” Gabriel said, taking his own seat behind the desk. Crowley sat down again, his portfolio at the ready. 

“So you’re a professional photographer?” Gabriel said, looking at the papers on his desk. 

“Yes. I am.”

“How long have you been doing that?”

“Professionally for about ten years. But it’s been a hobby and a passion since I was a child.”

“Mhm. You were employed at Hellfire Photography for several years, is that right?”

“I was, yes.”

“Why did you leave?”

“Hellfire Photography was a tabloid photographer’s firm. I wanted to capture the joyful moments of people’s lives.”

“So creative differences?”

“Um, yeah, you could say that.”

“Are you a pain in the ass to work with?”

Crowley was taken aback. “Not that I’m aware of, no. No one has ever complained about working with me, to my knowledge.”

“What’s with the sunglasses?”

“A mild photophobia, or sensitivity to light. Fluorescent lights tend to give me a headache over a long period.”

“Hmm. I just thought you were trying to look cool.” Gabriel looked back down at his papers. “So you can obviously operate a camera.”

“Yes. Quite well, in fact. I have my portfolio here…”

“Are you able to function in high stress situations?” Gabriel asked, cutting him off.

 _I’m functioning now, aren't I?_ he thought. 

“Yes. I’m good under pressure.”

“Do you like kids?”

“I do. In fact, if you’ll take a look at my portfolio…” he said, raising it again to offer it. 

Gabriel waved him off. “I’m sure it’s great. Can you work a forty hour week?”

“Yes. That’s what I’m hoping for.”

“Good. Is there anything else I need to know?”

“Only that I’m the best candidate for the job. I’m sure if you compare me to all the other applicants…”

“There were no other applicants.”

Crowley blinked. “There weren’t?”

“No. If you don’t take the job, I’ll have to take the damn photos myself.”

“So I guess it would be extra pathetic if I didn’t get hired,” he joked weakly. 

“Oh, you’ve got the job. Can you start on Monday?”

“I - yes. I can.”

“Good. Santa arrives in the North Pole at ten am. You need to arrive at 9:30, so you can change into your costume.”

“Costume?”

“The elf costume. When you get here Monday, come to Santa’s grotto and find the large gingerbread house. Let yourself in - that’ll be your home base and where you take your breaks. It’s equipped with a bathroom and fridge to store your lunch. Your elf costume will be waiting there.”

An elf costume? Fuck. Fergus was going to laugh himself into a fit.

“Alright.”

“Your job is to take the best photos of the little heathens you possibly can, and then sell the parents the biggest package possible. There are cash bonuses for selling big packages.”

“Understood.”

“You and Santa will have an hour long lunch during the day. You’ll take it together in the gingerbread house, to maintain the mystery for the children. Can’t have the little ankle biters seeing you two at the food court.” 

“Okay.”

“Do you have any questions?”

“I - no. I don’t think so.”

“Very good,” Gabriel said. “We’ll see you at nine thirty Monday morning.”

He got up, shook a stunned Crowley’s hand, said “welcome aboard”, then left the office as quickly as he’d arrived, leaving Crowley sitting in the chair with his forgotten portfolio.

~*~O~*~

There was already a line of kids when Crowley arrived at the North Pole on Monday morning. As he’d been instructed, he went to the gingerbread house and used the gumdrop door handle to open the door. The interior looked like any other break room, with a cheap folding table and two cheap folding chairs, a noisy fridge in one corner, a microwave on the counter, and a ragged couch along the opposite wall. In the back of the room was a door Crowley assumed led to the bathroom, and on the wall beside the fridge hung two costumes: a Santa suit and an elf costume, complete with tights, pointy shoes with bells on, and a jaunty hat. Crowley closed his eyes, praying that no one he knew would see him. He’d only told his best mate, Fergus, about this, and Fergus had taken the piss for a little while before he’d solemnly swore not to come take photos of Crowley at work, wearing the suit. Crowley had been relieved and bought him a beer in gratitude.

With a sigh, Crowley went to the fridge and deposited his lunch, then stared at the costume for a minute, working up his nerve. It was fine, he thought. It would be miserable, but every artist worth their salt suffered for their art. This was fine. Just fine. 

He grabbed the costume and went to the bathroom to change. 

There was a full length mirror in the bathroom, and he looked at himself critically for a minute. He looked… ridiculous. _Utterly_ ridiculous. But this was what he had to do to get through until the end of the year. He might even drum up some business. This was fine. It was fine. 

Crowley went back out into the gingerbread house to sit on the couch and put the elf shoes on, aggravated by the little bells. Once he was fully dressed, he gave himself one more once-over, sighed a little, then stepped out into the North Pole. 

The line had grown, and a couple of kids squealed excitedly when they saw him. It was hard to be grumpy about _that_ , and he gave a small smile and a wave. The kids waved back enthusiastically. 

“Ah! Crowley. Good,” he heard then looked up to find Gabriel approaching him with a clipboard. Crowley’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped when he saw his boss - he was wearing a Christmas suit that was bright red and bedecked with snowmen, trees, snowflakes, and santa hats. Crowley must have looked comical because Gabriel paused and raised his hands with a smile. 

“What do you think of my suit?”

“It’s very, um, it’s very festive.”

“Christmas is our busiest season, by far, but I do love the clothes,” he said. 

“Ah, yeah. Suits you,” Crowley lied.

Gabriel smiled. “Excellent. Let me show you around.”

He spent the next few minutes familiarizing himself with the grotto he’d be working in for the next few weeks, going over the policies and whatnot. Gabriel was nice enough, but clearly in his element as manager, and Crowley was deferential. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a blur in cream clothes dart into the gingerbread house, and wondered if that was Santa. 

Gabriel was going over the safety protocol and how to get everyone out in case of a fire when they heard an explosion of sound behind them. He and Gabriel turned to look, and Crowley saw Santa standing in front of the gingerbread house, waving at the excited children and calling ‘ho, ho, ho!’ Crowley couldn’t help but smile, seeing the looks on the children’s faces. After a moment, Santa called to the children, “I’ll be seeing you shortly! Have your lists ready!” then turned to walk over to Gabriel and Crowley. 

“Sorry I’m late,” Santa said in a low voice, so as not to be overheard. “I got caught up on the tube.”

“No matter, you made it in time. Aziraphale, this is your elf this year, Crowley. Crowley, I’d like for you to meet Santa - Aziraphale Fell.”

Crowley offered his hand, and Aziraphale took it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine, dear,” he said, and Crowley couldn’t see his face, only his small, button nose and a pair of blue eyes, but they were stunning. He felt a shiver all over that he didn’t understand. 

“Excellent,” Gabriel said. “You two will have lots of time to get to know each other better over the next few weeks, but for now we’re running a bit behind. So shall we get started?”

“Yes, of course,” Aziraphale said, and his eyes crinkling indicated a smile. 

Gabriel spent the next few minutes going over the remainder of the safety protocol, but Crowley found his attention drawn to Aziraphale for reasons he couldn’t explain. Mentally, he shook himself. 

“I’ll be here to relieve you for lunch at one. If you need me before then, use the walkie at the station to call me.”

“We’ll be fine,” Aziraphale said. “I've never needed to call you in all these years.”

“Well, there’s a first time for everything. Are you ready?”

“Yes, quite,” Aziraphale said. 

Crowley nodded. “I’m ready.”

“Then take your places and I’ll let the children in.”

~*~O~*~

The morning passed quickly and wasn’t as bad as Crowley had feared. There were a few bratty kids and a few kids that cried, but on the whole, the children were fine. Crowley had worried about bitchy parents, but he hadn’t had much of a problem with them, either. Before he knew it, it was one and Gabriel was back to close the grotto for an hour. As soon as the last child was clear, Aziraphale got up out of the chair and came to join him and Gabriel. The three of them went to the gingerbread house to take their break.

“Well done!” Gabriel was saying. “Crowley, I’m extremely impressed with you! You’ve sold seventeen premier packages just this morning!”

“Is that good?”

“That’s excellent! Last year, we were lucky to get seventeen premier packages in an entire shift, much less a morning.”

“Ah, well, I’m happy to hear that.”

The walkie talkie made a noise and Gabriel smiled apologetically. “Gotta go. You two take your break. You’ve earned it.” Then he turned and left the room. 

“That really is a remarkable number, dear. I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone to top it.”

Crowley turned to say something to Aziraphale, he wasn’t sure what, but all his thoughts flew out of his head when he saw him. He’d taken off the hat and beard, so Crowley could see his face - and he was _gorgeous_. Absolutely the most stunning creature Crowley had ever seen in his life. His face was handsome, but sweet, and radiated kindness. He had light blond hair that curled and looked messy from the hat, but Crowley had a feeling that it was always rather messy. His cheeks were rosy and Crowley wanted to kiss them. Honestly, he looked like a goddamn angel. 

“Wow,” Crowley said, completely without his brain’s permission. 

“I’m sorry?”

“Um, I, um, I said wow. You, er… you look like someone I know,” he lied. 

“Oh. Well, hopefully that’s a good thing.”

Crowley nodded fervently. “It is.”

“Very good. Shall we dine? Did you bring your lunch?”

“Oh. Um, yeah. I’ll get it.”

He pulled his lunch out of the fridge and heated it up in the small microwave, sneaking looks at Aziraphale every chance he got, but Aziraphale didn’t seem to notice. He’d taken up a seat at the table and was arranging his food. Crowley joined him and didn’t miss Aziraphale’s little moan of pleasure when he took his first bite. _Jesus_.

Scrambling to think of something to say, he landed on, “So this isn’t your first year as Santa?”

“Oh, no. I’ve been Santa for Celestial Arcade for the last ten years or so.”

“Do you like it?”

“I do, for the most part. There are good days and bad, like at any other job, but I enjoy what I do. I adore children.”

“I do, too,” Crowley said, a bit more eagerly than he intended. Shit. Now he probably sounded like a perv. 

If Aziraphale thought anything about it, he didn’t say anything. “I take it this is not your day job?”

“Ah, no. It’s not. Is it yours?”

Aziraphale smiled at him and _holy shit_. That smile was like a lorry to the chest. Right then, he resolved to do anything to see that smile again. 

“No, it’s not mine, either,” Aziraphale said, and it took Crowley a second to remember what he’d been talking about. Their other jobs. Right. 

“So what do you do when you’re not delighting children all over the world?” Crowley asked, flirting. 

Blessedly, Aziraphale smiled again. “I’m a bookshop owner.”

“You are?”

“Yes, I am. In Soho.”

“Isn’t Christmas your busiest season?”

“No. You’d think so, but I sell rare and antiquarian books, so most of my customers see me by appointment. I simply schedule them for times I’m not here.”

“Ah, I see.” 

“What do you do?” Aziraphale asked politely. 

“I’m a photographer.”

“Oh, really? That sounds fascinating. How did you end up here, if I may ask?”

“I, um, I was working for a firm that did celebrity and paparazzi photography, but it wasn't what I wanted to do. I wanted to capture people’s happiest moments. So a couple of months ago, I struck out on my own.”

“How _very_ brave of you. Have you been successful?”

“I’ve had some success, but it takes a long while to build clientele. So I took this job until I got some clients.”

“Well, I’m very glad you did, dear. I’m positively thrilled to have met you,” Aziraphale said warmly, and Crowley’s heart skipped a beat. Was that flirting? He couldn’t be sure. But it _seemed_ like flirting. Maybe?

Crowley smiled in what he hoped was an alluring way and took a sip of his soda.

~*~O~*~

A few hours later, after work, he was sitting in a pub, waiting for Fergus, sipping a lager. He didn’t have to wait long before Fergus came in, looking alarmed.

“Crowley, are you alright?” he asked urgently, coming to sit in the booth across from him. 

“I’m alright, I just needed an ear to bend.”

“You called me to the pub ASAP because you said you had an emergency.”

“Well, I kinda do.”

“So what is it?”

“I met someone today,” Crowley blurted. 

Fergus looked at him, blinking for a moment. “You met someone,” he repeated, deadpan. 

“I did.”

“I think you and I need to have a talk about what constitutes an emergency,” Fergus said. 

Crowley just scoffed into his beer. 

“Well? Tell me about them.”

“It’s Santa,” Crowley said, feeling ridiculous even as he said it. “I’ve got a thing for fucking Santa Claus.”

Fergus just stared at him blankly for a minute, then scrubbed his face with his hands. “I have a feeling I need a drink for this,” he said, flagging down a waitress. Once he had a beer in hand, he took a sip, sat the glass down, and looked at Crowley. “Okay. You said you have a thing for Santa Claus?”

“Yes. I mean, not the _real_ Santa, obviously. The man who plays Santa at Celestial Arcade. His name is Aziraphale.”

“That’s an unusual name.”

“Yeah, but I like it. I like _everything_ about him.”

“You just met him today.”

“I know,” Crowley said miserably. 

Fergus took another drink of his beer. “Alright. Tell me about him.”

“He’s a bookshop owner in Soho, but he plays Santa every Christmas because he loves kids. He’s my age, about my height, and fucking _gorgeous_ , Fergus. The most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”

“Surely he’s not _that_ beautiful. You’re sitting across from me, after all,” Fergus teased. 

“Yeah, no. _The_ most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. He looks like a fucking angel.”

“Well, you’re not exactly Quasimodo yourself.” Crowley scoffed, and Fergus persisted. “What are you going to do about it?”

“I honestly don’t know. He’s too good for me - far too good for me.”

“Oh, I doubt that.”

“No, really. He is. He doesn’t just _look_ like an angel, he is an angel. I’m practically a demon compared to him.”

“Haven’t you ever heard that opposites attract?”

Crowley groaned and buried his head in his hands. “You’re _not_ helping.”

“Is he gay? Or bi?”

“I honestly don’t know. I think so, but that’s not exactly an icebreaker question.”

“Do you think he’s interested in you?”

“Maybe? Possibly? I just don’t know.”

“Well, there are a few ways to find out.”

“What would _you_ do?”

“I think I’d feel him out a bit more. Talk to him. Get to know him a bit. Then, if you think he might be interested, ask him to go get a drink or something.”

“How long should I talk to him? Feel him out?”

“I’d do it until you have a better idea whether he’s into you or not.”

“I’m rubbish at this.”

“Nobody is an expert at it. You just need to rely on instinct. You can do this, Crowley.”

He sighed. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“Is anything else tripping you up?”

“Kinda, I just fucking hate that I met my dream man while wearing a fucking elf costume.”

“All the more reason to get him out of the grotto and to a pub or a restaurant or something. Maybe a nice dinner. Let him see you for who you _really_ are.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I think you’re right.”

Fergus leaned over and clapped him on the shoulder. “Buck up, Crowley. Here, let’s finish these beers and plot things you can talk about to win Santa’s heart.” 

“Yeah,” Crowley said, feeling bolstered. Let’s do that.”


	2. Chapter 2

“So how long have you been a bookshop owner?” Crowley asked the next day when they sat down at the table for lunch. Mentally, he was reviewing the possible topics he and Fergus had come up with, and Fergus’ advice. _Let him see your interest, but be cool. Don’t go charging in like a bull in a china shop. You have five weeks._

“Oh, all my life, it seems,” Aziraphale laughed. “It was my parents’ shop, and my grandparents’ before them.”

“So you’re keeping alive the family tradition?”

“Yes, although I fear the tradition will die with me. I have no children to pass it down to.”

“You’re still young,” Crowley said, his heart rate picking up. “You could still have children.”

“Well, I suppose I could, technically, but it would be difficult. I don’t favor women, you see.”

“Oh,” Crowley said, surprised that he’d put it so bluntly, but delighted with the news. “That’s good.”

“Is it?” Aziraphale asked, his eyes twinkling. 

Crowley realized what he’d said and flushed. “I just mean, it’s good that you know who you are and what you want,” he said. _Smooth, Crowley. Real smooth._

Aziraphale looked amused. “Yes, quite. How about you? Are you married? Children?”

“Oh, no. Not me. I’m very, very single.”

“That’s good to hear,” Aziraphale said, and bloody hell, was that _heat_ in his eyes?

The moment passed and Aziraphale picked at his salad with his fork. “Is Crowley your first name?”

“No, my first name is Anthony. Anthony Jay Crowley. But I hate it, so everyone calls me Crowley.”

“It suits you.”

“May I ask about your name?”

“It was a family name. My parents found it while studying genealogy and liked it. It’s also the name of an angel.”

Crowley lit up. “It is?”

“It is, yes. Why?”

“Because when I first met you, I thought you looked like an angel. Glad to know my hunch was spot on.”

“You’re so silly,” Aziraphale said, but he was smiling and blushing.

“Well, I love it.”

“You do?”

“Yes. It’s a gorgeous name.” _For a gorgeous man,_ he didn’t say. 

Aziraphale just smiled and Crowley’s heart stopped for a moment. Jesus, he was just so beautiful. 

“Thank you, dear.”

“You’re welcome.”

“How do you like the job so far?” Aziraphale asked. 

“It’s alright,” Crowley said. “It’s hectic but I like it.”

“It’s very hectic,” Aziraphale agreed. “But I find the holiday season in general to be hectic.”

“What made you want to dive into the commercial side of Christmas if you didn’t have to?”

Aziraphale looked pensive for just a moment. “Honestly, I just wanted to bring joy to people’s lives. There is such magic in the smiles and laughter of children, and selfishly, I wanted to create that kind of joy. I couldn’t resist the temptation.”

“Yeah,” Crowley said, almost dreamily, wondering if it was possible to fall in love with someone in one day.

“You do something similar,” Aziraphale said. “With your photography.”

“Not exactly. I just capture the moment.”

“Yes, but they’re moments that make people smile. I’d be willing to bet that every parent who bought some of your photos today with Santa will look back on them and smile.” 

“They’ll be smiling at the memory.”

“That you captured,” Aziraphale pointed out. 

“That you helped create,” Crowley rejoined. 

Aziraphale smiled. “Well, I suppose you and I are both doing good in the world.”

“I - yeah. I never thought of it like that, but we are.”

“We make a good team,” Aziraphale said, his eyes twinkling again and bloody hell, it really did seem like he was flirting. Crowley nearly leapt out of his skin with excitement.

“We are indeed,” Crowley replied, with a smile he hoped was sexy.

~*~O~*~

Two days later, they retired to the gingerbread house at one, enduring a pep talk from Gabriel - wearing a garish green suit today - and Crowley was amused to see Aziraphale relax a bit when Gabriel left. 

“You alright there?”

“I’m fine. I’m just never entirely comfortable around Gabriel. I’ve known him for over ten years and I keep telling myself that feeling will go away, but it never does.”

“I can see that,” Crowley said. “He’s very nice, but I can imagine he’d be a prick sometimes.”

“Indeed. I’m always grateful when he takes his leave and it’s just me and you.”

Crowley felt a swoop in his stomach. Aziraphale kept _saying_ things like that, and he didn't know what to make of them. It seemed like Aziraphale was _interested_ , but the more time passed, the more Crowley was terrified to make a move. Aziraphale was so _good_ and _kind_ and _clever_ and _perfect_ \- he was so much _better_ than Crowley. It was intimidating. He had no idea what he should do about it. Maybe it was time to talk to Fergus again. 

“I, um, I’ve been meaning to ask Gabriel, but keep losing my nerve.”

“Ask him what, dear?”

“I’d like to stick out some business cards at the kiosk, to try to drum up some business.”

“I’m sure he’d be fine with that,” Aziraphale said, pulling his lunch out of the refrigerator. Crowley eyed his bum appreciatively as he bent over. “Why don’t you ask him when he comes back? I’ll put in a good word for you.”

“You would?”

“Of course I would, dear. I’d be happy to.”

“Thank you,” Crowley said, stunned. 

Aziraphale gave him a blinding smile. “You’re welcome, darling.”

 _Darling._ He’d called him darling. Did that mean something? No, no. It was probably just a pet name he called everyone. Crowley did his best not to get his hopes up.

But he felt like his blood was fizzing in his veins for the rest of the day.

~*~O~*~

Crowley was outside of London on Sunday with a couple, shooting their engagement photos. He really needed to do a good job with these two - judging by the size of the diamond, the wedding would be enormous, and Crowley _very much_ wanted that job. A big wedding like that could cover his rent, easily. So he was determined to do his best work for this couple, Newt and Anathema. 

Except… his head wasn’t on the work, it was on Aziraphale. That was nothing new, really - for the last six days, he’d been unable to think of anything but Aziraphale - but he really needed to get a better hold of himself until he was alone. He couldn’t afford to be distracted. Newt and Anathema deserved his full attention. 

It was cold outside, in the meadow, and Crowley wrapped himself tighter in his jacket. But the light was lovely and the day was full of possibilities. Doing his best to shake off the thoughts of Aziraphale, he smiled at the couple and tried to sink into the joyful part of his job. He gave them directions, posing them, and when he got them just right, he beamed. This is what he was meant to do. This was what he was good at. 

He moved the pair, posing them in different positions, capturing as much as he could. Like any good photographer, he took loads of photos to be reviewed later. It was much better to have a lot and separate the wheat from the chaff than it was to only take a handful of photos. Doing so, the couple was almost assured of lots of lovely shots to choose from after he was finished. 

Crowley sat them down on blankets in the meadow and situated Anathema sitting with her back against Newt’s belly. Automatically, he wrapped his arms around her, and she smiled. Crowley felt a pang, watching them be so effortless with each other, and his thoughts wandered to Aziraphale. What would it be like to hold Aziraphale, to be held by him? Would Aziraphale be a snuggler? Crowley had never been one in past relationships, but he rather thought he’d feel different about Aziraphale. 

He shook himself from the thought - again - and brought his mind back to Newt and Anathema. He rearranged them slightly to put the ring on display, having Newt hold her hand and press a kiss to her ring finger. When he got the shot, they threaded their fingers together and smiled brilliantly at each other. 

What would it be like to hold Aziraphale’s hand that way? Would Aziraphale be the hand holding type? Crowley was sure his hands would be warm and soft, his fingers thick and strong, and he lost himself in a little daydream about walking down the pavement, hands joined with Aziraphale. He’d be _so proud_ to be seen with Aziraphale, to be associated with him. And to be his boyfriend? Bloody hell, he couldn’t contemplate such a thought. 

Then Newt and Anathema started to kiss, and Crowley snapped some photos. But as he snapped, his mind wandered - what would it be like to _kiss_ Aziraphale? Crowley would be willing to bet that his lips would be soft and gentle, but still strong. And he was further willing to bet that oh, Aziraphale would taste amazing. Whatever heaven tasted like, that’s what his angel would taste like. 

He let his mind wander for a few moments while he pretended to adjust something on the camera and Newt and Anathema continued to kiss, completely oblivious to his mental meanderings. He imagined cuddling on a couch, mabe the couch in his flat, watching some show together, wrapped up in each other’s arms. In his mind’s eye, he was in the corner of the couch and Aziraphale was snuggled up with him, but he certainly wouldn’t mind it the other way. Or, he thought, maybe Aziraphale would like to sit on the couch and read - and Crowley could lay his head in the angel’s lap. Maybe Aziraphale would play with his hair as he read. Would Aziraphale like that? Crowley nearly purred from the very thought. 

Then, for the umpteenth time, he shook himself from the thoughts of Aziraphale and went back to Newt and Anathema. They were still here, smiling against each other’s lips, and Crowley dutifully captured the image. He also made a deal with himself - if he managed to get through the rest of the photo shoot without letting his mind wander to Aziraphale too much, he’d allow himself a nice long daydream about Aziraphale tonight. It would be the carrot on the end of the stick. But he _had_ to do his best work now. 

Crowley finished the photoshoot an hour later, not deserving the reward he’d promised himself, but resolving to give it to himself anyway.

~*~O~*~

Crowley had never been the type to look forward to work, but he absolutely looked forward to Monday, when he’d see Aziraphale again. They had just a few minutes to talk in the gingerbread house before they had to go to work, and Crowley treasured those few moments. He treasured _every_ moment with Aziraphale. 

Their morning passed without incident, and they took lunch together. As they ate, they talked more about themselves, and Crowley felt himself falling even deeper into love. And he was certain that’s what he was feeling - he’d never felt anything like it. It _had_ to be love. What else could it be? The question was now, what should he do about it? He suspected Aziraphale felt something for him, too, but he wasn’t _sure_. Besides, he still felt so inadequate. Aziraphale was so high above him, in every way. He really was out of Crowley’s league. But Crowley couldn’t help but be mad about him. He was arse over teakettle, and felt like his heart would burst. The soft smiles and little glances Aziraphale gave him made him think that maybe, just maybe, he should take a shot. That was the kind of thing he needed Fergus for. He resolved to text his best mate and ask him to meet for a beer at his earliest convenience. 

The afternoon was busier than the morning and they had a steady stream of children and parents to deal with. Crowley had gotten good at spotting the kids (and parents) who were most likely to be trouble, and he spotted a potential problem a few people back. The mother was well dressed but looked harried, and the child, about five, looked to be frightened. Crowley braced himself as best he could for a potential meltdown. 

When it was that child’s turn, the mother dragged him up to Aziraphale, but the little boy resisted. Aziraphale held out his hands welcomingly, the way he always did with frightened children, and he could hear Aziraphale speaking softly to him. “Don’t be afraid, little one. I won’t hurt you.”

The little boy was doing his best to hide behind his mother’s skirts, but having little success because the mother kept trying to pull him forward. Crowley could see Aziraphale’s eyes etched with deep concern and the mother getting increasingly frustrated. Finally the little boy broke away with a shouted ‘NO!’ and ran to hide behind a giant styrofoam snowman. 

The mother huffed angrily, stomping over to speak with the boy. Crowley decided to step in, and walked over to where the little boy and mother were standing, the little boy still trying to hide. 

“Pardon me,” he said. “I’m good with kids. Can I try?”

The woman rolled her eyes and put her hands up in a gesture of surrender. “Be my guest.”

Crowley gave her a smile he didn’t quite feel, then plastered a real smile, crouching down to get closer to the boy. “Hello there,” he said. “My name is Crowley. What’s yours?”

The boy eyed him warily for a minute, sizing him up, and apparently found him to be ‘safe’. He said quietly, “Warlock. Warlock Dowling.”

“Warlock is an _awesome_ name. Are you alright? It seems like you’re having some big feelings.”

Warlock nodded, his eyes wide. 

“Want to tell me what’s wrong? Maybe we can fix it?”

The little boy pointed at Aziraphale, who was standing nearby. “He’s scary.”

Crowley turned to look at Aziraphale, who was watching intently, then back to Warlock. 

“Why do you say so?”

“Mommy says that he comes to everybody’s house and delivers toys. That he comes down the chimney. But he’s got to be a ghost or something to fit down the chimney. Some kind of shapeshifting monster, and I’m scared.”

“He’s not a shapeshifting monster,” Crowley said kindly. “He’s just a human. But do you know what he has? How he does all that?”

“How?”

“Elf magic.”

“Are you an elf?” Warlock asked. 

“I am. I’m Santa’s helper,” Crowley said. “Can I tell you something else about Santa?”

“What’s that?”

He turned and pointed at Aziraphale where Warlock could see. “See those crinkles beside his eyes?”

“Yeah.”

“Those are there because he smiles and laughs all the time. Santa is just a man with elf magic, but he’s a _nice_ man. He would never hurt you. He loves little children.”

“All little children?”

“Yes, all of them.”

“Because Mommy says that he doesn't bring toys to the naughty children.”

Crowley leaned forward conspiratorially. “That’s just a tale mummies tell to make their children be nice. Santa would never leave out a child.”

“Really?”

“Cross my heart,” Crowley said, making an x over his chest. 

“Okay.”

“I’ve got an idea. Why don’t you come over here and stand next to Santa? You don’t have to sit in his lap and he won't touch you.” Crowley turned to Aziraphale. “Will you, Santa?”

Aziraphale shook his head. “I won’t touch you at all.”

Crowley looked back to Warlock. “Just stand next to him and let me get a picture, and then you can have _two_ candy canes.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Alright,” Warlock agreed, coming out from behind the snowman, tentatively going towards Aziraphale. 

“I don’t know what to say,” the mother, Mrs. Dowling said. “I’ve never seen the like. You really got _through_ to him.”

Crowley got to his feet and shrugged. “I like kids.”

“He hasn’t posed for a photo with Santa in such a long time… he hasn’t taken _any_ photos without protest…”

“Crowley is a photographer that takes _beautiful_ photos of children,” Aziraphale said, striding up to them. “Perhaps you should give him a call?” Crowley looked to see that Aziraphale was offering her his card. 

Mrs. Dowling took it with a smile. “I’ll be happy to. And I’ll be sure to tell all my friends about today.”

“Excellent,” Aziraphale said, smiling. “Take several cards to pass out. Now, let’s get this picture so this brave little boy can have his candy canes.”

Crowley snapped the photo and Mrs. Dowling bought a premier package, promising to call for an appointment, but that hardly mattered and he barely noticed. He was too busy making moon eyes at Aziraphale. To his absolute shock, Aziraphale was making them right back. 

The first chance he got, he texted Fergus and requested an emergency beer at the pub that night.

~*~O~*~

The waitress at the pub kept shooting Crowley glances, but Crowley paid her no mind. Two weeks ago, he might have been interested, but not now. Not since he’d met Aziraphale. He just ignored her and sipped his beer, waiting for Fergus. 

His best mate appeared a couple of minutes later, breezing in with a smile. The waitress was over at their table in a second, before Fergus even had a chance to take off his coat, and she was back with his beer almost immediately, still casting Crowley glances. Crowley barely refrained from rolling his eyes, but he did grin when Fergus gave her an appreciative look. 

“So,” Fergus said after he’d taken a sip of his lager. “What’s the emergency this time?”

“I want to ask Aziraphale out, but I’m afraid. I need you to hype me up.”

“Why are you afraid?”

“Because he’s so - so perfect,” Crowley said. 

Fergus gave him a look. “Crowley, I appreciate that you’re head over heels for this man, but nobody is perfect.”

“Aziraphale is,” Crowley insisted. “He’s much too good for the likes of me.”

“I sincerely doubt that, but okay. I won’t argue with you. Did you find out whether or not he’s gay? Or bi?”

“He’s gay.”

“Good. Is he single?”

“I -I don't actually know. He doesn't wear a wedding band, and he’s never mentioned anyone else.”

“Okay, let’s operate under the assumption that he’s single. Do you think he’s interested in you?”

Crowley nodded, his smile wondering. “Yeah. I think he is.”

“So what’s tripping you up?”

“I don’t know. I’ve come close to asking him out a couple of times, and I lose my nerve. But I’ve got it so bad, Fergus. I’m _crazy_ about him. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.”

“No, I’ve never heard you talk like this about anyone. Alright. Let’s make a plan. You’ll feel more confident asking him on a date if you have some idea what you’re going to do on said date, don’t you think?”

“That makes sense.”

“Good. So… what do you think he’d like to do?”

“I honestly don’t know. He likes to read, I know that.”

“Think about his personality. What type of activities do you think he’d be interested in, based on that?”

Crowley thought for a moment. “He’s very cultured. He seems like the type to like highbrow entertainment.”

“So maybe a play? You could go to the West End.”

“Yeah, we could do that. What type of play?”

“I haven’t the foggiest. Shakespeare is always a safe bet, though.”

“Yeah, he seems like the type to like Shakespeare. I’ll check and see what the RSC is doing. Good thinking, Fergus.”

“My pleasure. Now, what else would you do? Dinner?”

“Yeah, I should think so. Don’t you?”

“Dinner and a play sounds like a fine date to me. Where do you think he’d like to go?”

“I don’t know. I’d like to take him to the nicest restaurant I can afford.”

“Rodrigo’s is nice.”

“Yeah. What about French?”

Before Fergus could answer, Crowley’s mobile went off. He reached for it absently, glancing at the screen, but he didn’t recognize the number. 

“Who is it?”

“I don’t know. Probably a client. Give me just a minute,” he said, then swiped the screen to answer it. “Hello?”

“Hello, is this Crowley?”

His heart nearly stopped when he recognized the voice. His eyes got wide and his face was slack. 

“Speaking,” he said, his voice strained. 

“Oh, good. I was hoping to catch you. This is Aziraphale.”

“Hi, Aziraphale,” he said, specifically so Fergus would know who he was talking to. Fergus’ eyes got wide, and he smiled. Crowley couldn't smile back, his heart was threatening to beat out of his chest. “How are you?”

“I’m very well, thank you. Is this a bad time? It sounds loud where you are.”

“No, this is a perfect time. Give me just a second.” He covered the mouthpiece and got to his feet quickly. “Be right back,” he told Fergus. 

“Go!” Fergus asid with a smile and a wave. 

Once Crowley was outside on the pavement, he uncovered the mouthpiece. “Sorry about that, angel. Are you still there?”

“I’m here,” Aziraphale said. “Is this a bad time? I can call back.”

“No, no, you’re fine. I was at the pub with my best mate but I left him at the table and came to talk to you.”

“Oh, you didn't have to do that…”

“I’m happy to, honestly,” he said. 

“Yes, well…”

It was silent a moment until Crowley said, “So what’s up?” As soon as the words left his mouth, he cringed. Bloody hell, he didn't want to sound like a teenager.

“I, um, I hope it’s alright that I called.”

“Of course it is. I’m thrilled you called. But how did you get my number?” Crowley asked, suddenly curious. 

“I nicked one of your cards a few days ago, when you put them out. I’ve been meaning to call, but haven’t been able to work up the courage.”

Crowley’s heart sped up. “You don’t have to be nervous to call me. I’m just me,” he said, feeling stupid. 

“Quite right. I, um, I bet you’re wondering _why_ I called.”

He grinned a little. “I admit, I’m a bit curious.”

Aziraphale was quiet for a second, then said in a determined voice, “I was calling because I’ve very much enjoyed spending time with you at work, and I’d like to spend _more_ time with you. I’d quite like to see you outside of work. In short, I’d like to take you on a date.”

“A date!” Crowley replied stupidly. 

“Yes, a date. I’d very much like to take you out, if you’d be willing. So, er, that’s why I called.”

Crowley’s smile could have powered the city. “Angel, I’d _love_ to go on a date with you.”

“You would?”

He nodded, even though Aziraphale couldn't see him. “I would, yeah.”

“Oh, jolly good. That’s excellent news, indeed. When would you like to see each other? I was thinking perhaps we could go out after work one day.”

“That would be great. Where would you like to go?”

“I have a couple of ideas,” Aziraphale said. 

“Well, I can’t wait to hear them,” Crowley said flirtatiously. 

“Would tomorrow evening after work be too soon? I’m quite eager to do this.”

“I’m eager, too. Tomorrow after work would be perfect. Absolutely perfect.”

“Alright then,” Aziraphale said, sounding pleased. “That’s settled. Good.”

“Good,” Crowley echoed, his smile so big it hurt his cheeks. “So I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yes. I’ll see you at work in the morning, then afterwards for our date.”

“Angel, I can’t wait.”

“I can’t either. Goodnight, Crowley.”

“Goodnight, angel,” he said, then rang off. He stared at the phone for a second, unable to believe what had just happened, then punched the air with an exuberant ‘YES!’


	3. Chapter 3

The next day was odd, but pleasant. He and Aziraphale kept exchanging little looks, then glancing away, both of them flushing. Neither of them mentioned the date at all, until the end of the day, when Aziraphale said, “So, we’ll just get changed and go, yes?” Crowley just nodded, too excited to say anything coherent. 

He was waiting outside the gingerbread house in the grotto, dressed in his usual kit, feeling like he was about to jump out of his skin. He hadn’t been this nervous about a first date in _years_ , and honestly didn’t know what to do with his anxiety. It seemed clear that Aziraphale liked him, but what if he spent a little time with Crowley outside of work and changed his mind? Crowley shook off the thought. Thinking of things like that wasn't productive, and he needed to push it aside. This would be fine. It would all be fine. Better than fine. 

He wondered what Aziraphale’s clothes would look like. He’d never seen Aziraphale out of the Santa suit, and wondered what his outfit would be. He didn’t have long to think before the door to the gingerbread house opened and Aziraphale stepped out. Crowley lost his breath at the sight. He was clad in all light clothes, old fashioned and prim, complete with a waistcoat and bowtie. It should have been ridiculous in the 21st century, but somehow, on Aziraphale, it was just _right_. Crowley thought he was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. 

“Wow,” he said, unable to articulate anything else.

Aziraphale looked pleased, flushing. “Am I alright?”

“Angel, you look gorgeous,” Crowley blurted before he could stop himself. 

He flushed darker, his smile bright. “Thank you. You look very handsome yourself.”

Crowley looked down at himself, his dark jeans, dark shirt, dark shoes, jacket and tie, then back up at Aziraphale. Chromatically, they were polar opposites. But didn’t Fergus say that opposites attract? Oh, he hoped so. At any rate, Aziraphale seemed to like the way he was dressed. 

“Thank you,” he said, smiling at Aziraphale in what he hoped was a sexy way. “I, um, I thought about bringing you flowers, but I didn't know if they would be welcome. Plus they’d have had to sit in the gingerbread house all day.”

Aziraphale laughed merrily. “I thought of bringing you flowers, too, but didn’t for the same reasons.” 

Crowley gave him a lopsided grin. “Really?”

“Yes. Oh, well. Shall we just say that it’s the thought that counts?”

“Yeah,” Crowley said, giving him a bright smile. “Let’s do that.”

“Oh, I nearly forgot. I’ve been meaning to ask you. Do you drive?”

“I do, yes. My car is parked outside.”

“Do you mind driving us tonight? I don’t drive, personally, and while I’m usually a fan of public transport, I’d rather avoid it tonight if I can. Not as romantic, you understand.”

“I don’t mind driving at all,” he said with a smile. Aziraphale wanted to be romantic? 

“Lovely. Are you ready to go?”

Feeling a flash of boldness, Crowley stepped forward and offered an arm. “Shall we?”

Aziraphale beamed and threaded his arm through Crowley’s elbow. “Let’s go, darling.”

Crowley strutted out of the Arcade, proud as a peacock.

~*~O~*~

Five minutes later, they were climbing into the front seat of Crowley’s Bentley. In the close quarter of the car, Crowley could _smell_ Aziraphale, and he smelled like a mix of good cologne and old paper. He wanted to bury his face in the angel’s neck and take a deep whiff, but refrained. 

Once Aziraphale was inside (and he had exclaimed over the car a bit, thrilling Crowey), Crowley started the car to get the heat going and turned to Aziraphale with a smile. “Alright, angel. Where to?”

“Oh. Yes. The address is 150 Picadilly, St. James.”

Crowley’s eyes were wide. “We’re going to the Ritz?”

“Yes, if that’s alright. I got us a reservation there.”

“Are you serious?”

Aziraphale looked upset. “Oh, dear. Did I do the wrong thing? I had so wanted to impress you…”

Crowley was even more stunned. “You wanted to impress me?”

“Oh, yes. Very much. I’d hoped to, how do they say, sweep you off your feet.”

Crowley didn't know what to say to that, he just stared blankly. 

“I’m sorry if I did the wrong thing,” Aziraphale said, flushing. 

“No, no. It’s not wrong. I've just never been to the Ritz as a patron. I've never been worthy enough,” he said with a nervous chuckle. 

“I think you’re very worthy,” Aziraphale said, his brow knitted a bit. 

“I hope you’ll continue to think that,” Crowley said earnestly. 

“If you’d prefer not to go to the Ritz, we can go to any other restaurant…”

“No, no. The Ritz is fine. I was just a bit shocked for a moment. Let’s go,” he said, shifting into gear. 

Crowley was on his best behavior, driving wise, on the short trip from Celestial Arcade to the restaurant, determined not to terrify Aziraphale. When they arrived, he gave the keys to the attendant at the valet stand and offered his arm to Aziraphale again, who took it eagerly. 

“Reservation for Fell, please,” Aziraphale said when they got inside to the maitre’d.

“Right this way, gentlemen,” the matire’d replied, then led them into a large, elegant dining room. Crowley did his best not to look out of place as he took in his surroundings. It was lavishly decorated for Christmas, with boughs of evergreen and baubles and red bows lined with gold all over the place. In the middle of the room stood an enormous tree, decorated with red and gold, and Crowley was willing to bet that just the decorations alone in that room were worth more than he had in savings. 

The matire’d took them to a small, two-seat table that was slightly out of the way, next to a wall. Crowley hastened to pull out one of the chairs for Aziraphale, like a gentleman, and was rewarded with a brilliant smile. He took his own seat, his heart fluttering. 

The waiter appeared before they had a chance to talk, bringing a wine list and a couple of menus. 

“Would you like some wine, darling?” Aziraphale asked, and Crowley’s heart flipped over. He’d called him ‘darling’ again. 

“Uh, yeah. Wine would be good.”

“Red or white?”

“Whatever you prefer.”

Aziraphale turned back to the waiter. “A bottle of your finest white, please, while we peruse our menus.”

“Very good, sir,” the waiter said, then disappeared. 

He and Aziraphale chatted lightly about what they were going to order and had just decided when the water was back with the wine, pouring each of them a glass and taking their order. Then he was gone, and Crowley was left at the table with Aziraphale, with no idea what to say. 

Aziraphale picked up his glass and raised it. “May I propose a toast?”

“Sure, what to?” Crowley asked, raising his own glass. 

“To whatever joyful serendipity led to you and I coming together. I’m so very happy to have met you, darling.”

Crowley just grinned dopily. “Yeah, me too. Hear, hear.” 

They clinked glasses and took a sip, their eyes locked on each other. Christ, Aziraphale was simply the most beautiful creature Crowley had ever seen. 

“So when I mentioned the Ritz, you said that you’d never been a patron, but you knew the address off the top of your head.”

“Ah, yeah. I’ve spent many a long evening standing on the pavement waiting for a celebrity to emerge so I could take their picture. But I’ve never been inside.”

“I’m very happy that your first time inside was with me,” Aziraphale said with a smile. “What do you think of it?”

“It's very nice,” Crowley said, looking around again. “A bit more posh than I’m used to.”

“Well, perhaps we can come here often, then. You should be well used to luxury, I think.”

“You do?”

“I do,” Aziraphale said, then took a sip of his wine. “May I ask you a question, Crowley?”

“You can ask me anything, angel.”

“Why do you wear sunglasses so much? I assume they’re required?”

“Er, yeah, kinda. I have a mild photophobia, or sensitivity to light. The sunglasses help me avoid headaches.”

“Oh, that’s a shame. Do you have to wear them all the time?”

“No, not all the time. Just when I’m under harsh lighting. Why?”

“Because I’d very much like to see your eyes,” Aziraphale said. 

Crowley didn’t hesitate, he pulled off his sunglasses and folded them, tucking them into the pocket of his jacket. Then, nervously, he looked up so his eyes could meet Aziraphale’s. 

Aziraphale’s breath caught, and he broke into a dazzling smile. “Well now,” he said. “Those are the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen.”

Crowley grinned. “You think so?”

“I really do, darling. I’d like to see them more - as much as you’ll let me, without giving yourself a headache.”

“I can leave them off the rest of the night,” Crowley said, eager to please. “If that's what you’d like.”

“Yes, I think I’d like that, as long as it doesn’t cause you pain.”

“It won’t, I promise.”

“Thank you, dear.”

“S’my pleasure,” Crowley said, then took a sip of his wine. 

“I must tell you, you were absolutely brilliant with that little boy the other day. Warlock.”

Crowley smiled. “Thanks.”

“You must have children in your family or something.”

“No, not really. I’m an only child and only have a couple of cousins. I’m just… naturally good with kids, I guess.”

“Well, I imagine that’s a handy skill to have, in your line of work. Very fortuitous.”

“It’s a bonus, yeah.”

Aziraphale’s eyes twinkled. “Perhaps you should take the elf costume home to wear at sessions.”

Crowley groaned with a small smile. “No way. I think I’d rather burn that damn thing.”

“Oh, please don’t, dear. I’d be so sad.”

“I look ridiculous in it.”

“You don’t. You look quite dashing.”

Crowley snorted. “Yeah, in my tights and jingle bell shoes.”

“I find you quite fetching in it. Especially the tights.”

That made him blush happily, but he also groaned again and scrubbed his face with his hands. “It’s embarrassing enough to have to wear it, but knowing that _you’ve_ seen me in it…”

“I wasn’t joking, darling. You really are far and away the most attractive ‘elf’ I’ve ever seen. And yes, it might be a bit silly, but I was instantly attracted to you in that silly getup. Jingle bell shoes and all.”

Crowley looked down to see that Aziraphale had covered his hand with his, that they were _touching_. He just stared blankly at their joined hands for a minute, until Aziraphale cleared his throat, embarrassed , and tried to withdraw. Crowley acted fast to stop him, holding onto his hand and lacing their fingers together so they were holding hands properly. Aziraphale’s hands were soft, warm, and Crowley wanted to stay like that, holding hands with him, forever. 

He looked up at Aziraphale with wide eyes. “Is that alright?” he asked, unsure.

Aziraphale beamed. “My darling, that’s so much better than alright.”

Crowey grinned broadly at him, utterly besotted, and Aziraphale gave him the same besotted smile. They sat like that, hands held between them, until the waiter returned with their food and they were forced to separate.

~*~O~*~

Forty minutes later, dinner was winding down, despite Crowley’s best efforts. They’d had a lovely meal and had ordered dessert, even though Crowley didn’t have much of a sweet tooth. He was willing to do anything to have more time with Aziraphale. But eventually, they finished dessert, and Crowley started to panic. 

He was just working up the nerve to ask Aziraphale to continue the date a little longer when Aziraphale used his napkin to dab at his mouth, then laid it on the table. “Well, I don't mind telling you, that was scrumptious.”

Crowley grinned. “It was,” he agreed, even though he’d only taken a couple of bites of his. 

“I was wondering, Crowley, how you might feel extending our date a bit?”

He brightened. “Yeah?”

“Yes. If you’re willing. I don’t think I’m quite ready to surrender your company yet.”

“That’s music to my ears, angel. I was dreading the end of dinner because I was afraid you’d want me to take you straight home.”

“Oh, no, not yet. To be honest, I’d be happy if tonight _never_ ended. But I suppose that’s not practical.”

“No, I suppose not,” Crowley allowed, although he was still smiling. He couldn't help it. Honestly, he felt like bursting into song with sheer joy. “So what would you like to do?”

“Oh, I don't know. Do you have any ideas?”

“I really don’t,” Crowley admitted. “I’m just excited for more time with you.”

“I’m excited, too, darling. Why don’t we go for a stroll around London? Take in some of the seasonal decorations? Maybe a bit of window shopping? Would you like that?”

“I’d love that.”

“Excellent. I'll just call for the bill and we’ll be on our way.”

“I don’t suppose there’s any way you’d let me pay for dinner tonight, is there?”

“Oh, no,” Aziraphale said, furrowing his brow. “No, dear. I asked _you_ out tonight. It’s my responsibility to pay.”

Crowley was chagrined for a moment, then smiled when he spotted a loophole. “So the person who asks is responsible to pay?”

“Well, not _all_ the time…”

“What if I asked you for a second date? Would you let me pay for that one?”

Aziraphale smiled. “I think I could be persuaded, yes. Are you _going_ to ask me for a second date?”

“I don’t know,” Crowley teased. “I guess I need to see how the rest of _this_ date plays out.”

“Well, I’m hoping it turns out so well, you ask for a second. Then we have a third, then a fourth, and so on.”

“I have a feeling that’s exactly what’s going to happen,” Crowley said. 

Aziraphale winked, setting his heart to flutter, then called for the bill.

~*~O~*~

In very short order, they were in front of the Ritz, on the pavement, bundled into their coats. The air was crisp and they could see their breaths mingling in the small space between them. The lights of London made Aziraphale almost glow, and Crowley loved him so much it hurt. 

“Which way?” Crowley asked. 

Aziraphale looked both ways down the street, then turned back to Crowley with a smile. “Let’s go right.”

“Right it is,” Crowley said, then offered his arm. Aziraphale took it with a smile and Crowley thought he would burst. 

They started down the pavement, arm in arm, going nowhere in particular, and Crowley was struck by how _right_ it felt to be with Aziraphale. Just _being_ with Aziraphale felt right. He wondered if Aziraphale felt the same way. 

They passed a large toy shop with a window full of gift ideas, and Crowley was surprised when Aziraphale pulled them to a stop to peer into the window. 

“So _that’s_ what the new PlayStation looks like. I’ve had several children ask for one.”

“You remember what the children ask you for?”

“Well, I do my best,” Aziraphale said, still looking at the display.

“I imagine the children ask for some unusual things.”

Aziraphale gave a small smile and started walking again. “They tend to be very specific. ‘I want the _Paw Patrol_ firetruck. I want the _astronaut_ Barbie.’ If I were really Santa, it wouldn’t leave me much room for error.”

“No, I suppose not.”

“Those are the easy ones. The ones that break my heart are the children that ask for impossible things, like for mummy and daddy to get married again, or for a dead relative to come back to life.”

“Oh,” Crowley said, sobering. “I had never thought of that.”

“Well, it’s not pleasant to think of. I shouldn’t have said anything. I’ve put a damper on our evening.”

Crowley scrambled to think of something else to say. “So are you Santa anywhere else?”

Aziraphale grinned. “I can tell you, but you mustn’t tell Gabriel.”

“Cross my heart,” Crowely promised. 

“I am, actually. Every year, I borrow the costume and go to the children’s hospital. I take gingerbread cookies and candy canes and give them to all the children and staff, then spend a few hours with the children.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not,” Aziraphale said. “I go on the twenty-third of every December. It’s my favorite day of the year. But Gabriel likely wouldn't approve of me using the costume, so I don’t say anything.”

“I won’t, either,” Crowley promised, then they lapsed into silence for a few moments. “So, you go as Santa on the twenty-third?”

“I do, yes.”

“Would you maybe have some work for an elf to do on that day?”

Aziraphale looked at him with a radiant smile. “You’d do that?”

“I’d love to, angel. Maybe I could take pictures for the parents there. Free of charge, of course. They have enough worries to be getting on with.”

“Oh, Crowley, I think that would be _lovely_ ,” Aziraphale said, squeezing his arm. Crowley just beamed at him. 

They came upon an ice skating rink, swirling with lots of people, and without a word, he and Aziraphale took up positions on the side of the rink, watching children and couples skate around in a large circle. The skaters’ faces were so happy and joyful, Crowley wished he had his camera for just a moment, before he pushed that thought to the side. He was with Aziraphale tonight, and he needed to be present, in the moment. 

“Do you skate?” Aziraphale asked. 

“Not in many years,” Crowley admitted with a smile. “Do you?”

“It’s been a while, but I think I still remember how. Fancy a go?”

Crowley looked out at the people on the ice. He wanted to, very much, but there was always the likelihood he’d make an arse of himself. Should he risk it?

“I’ll make you a deal,” he said finally. 

Aziraphale’s eyes twinkled. “Oh, I like making deals. Go ahead.”

“I’ll go with you to skate on a couple of conditions.”

“Name them.”

“You have to promise not to laugh at me if I fall down.”

“I’ll only laugh if you laugh, my darling. I promise. What else?”

“You have to promise to hold my hand.”

Aziraphale’s eyes sparkled at that. “That’s wonderful. I’d love to hold your hand. Is that all?”

“Not quite. Two more things.”

“What are those?”

“You have to let me take you on another date sometime very soon.”

Aziraphale beamed. “So is this you asking me for a second date?”

“Yes, I am. Are you willing?”

“I’m more than willing, darling. I’m terribly eager to see you again. Often.”

Crowley couldn't help it, he lifted Aziraphale’s hand and pressed a kiss to the knuckles. 

“You mentioned one more condition?”

“Yeah, you have to let me pay for the skate rental.”

Aziraphale laughed merrily. “Oh, alright. I agree. Shall we?”

“Lead the way, angel.”

Crowley was nervous as he laced up his skates. He hadn’t done this in a good ten years, and tonight, he’d be doing it in front of Aziraphale. Blimey, he hoped he didn't fall and make an arse of himself.

Aziraphale finished lacing up his skates first, adding to Crowley’s anxiety, but it was diminished somewhat when Aziraphale got to his feet and reached for Crowley’s hand. Crowley grinned at him for just a moment before he took it and got to his feet. 

They were a bit unsteady as they started skating, and Crowley was holding Aziraphale’s hand as much for support as he was for any other reason. He felt like a newborn foal, all wobbly legs and poor balance, but it didn’t take long before he felt himself steady a bit. Aziraphale never let go of his hand, and Crowley felt more confident. 

“You’re doing so well, darling,” Aziraphale said approvingly. 

Crowley grinned at him. “Just don’t let go.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

They skated around the circle together, and Crowley took a moment to cherish this moment in his life. He had no idea how he’d gotten here, really, but was thrilled to be there. It really must be serendipity, he decided. 

“May I ask you something, dear?” Aziraphale asked a couple of minutes later. 

“Of course.”

“Do you do this much?”

“Ice skate? I think you can tell that I don’t,” he joked. 

Aziraphale chuckled. “No, I meant dating.”

Crowley hadn't expected that, and wasn’t quite sure how to respond to it. “Oh. No, I don’t date that much.”

“You don’t?” Aziraphale asked, not meeting his eye. 

“No, I don’t. I’m… well, this is my first date in well over a year.”

“I’m afraid I don’t date much, either. It’s been several years for me. I’m a bit out of practice.”

“I think you’re doing fine,” Crowley said with a smile. “Are you having a good time?”

“This has been the best date I’ve ever been on, darling,” he said. 

Crowley grinned at him. “Yeah?”

“Yes,” Aziraphale said emphatically. “But I’m wondering - what would you say to me kissing you?”

Crowley stumbled and nearly fell, but just managed to keep himself upright. 

“Did I offend you, dear?” Aziraphale asked, sounding worried. 

“No. No, not at all. I just... I was just surprised.”

“Surprised about what?”

“That an angel like you would want to kiss someone like me.”

“Oh, but I do want to. Very much. In fact, if you say it’s alright, I’m going to kiss you right here. I can hardly wait.”

Crowley nodded, too stunned to articulate proper thoughts. “I - yeah. I’d like that.”

Aziraphale gave him a smile, then skated to the center of the rink, where there were no other couples. Crowley followed him obediently, coming to a stop beside him, his heart pounding in his ears. Aziraphale turned to face him and bloody hell, he was so beautiful it was _unfair_. His cheeks and nose were rosy with cold and Crowley just _loved_ him. 

He reached and grabbed Crowley’s free hand, threading their fingers, so they had both their hands joined. Crowley’s heart was beating double time, his eyes darting all over Aziraphale’s face, and he nearly fainted when Aziraphale smiled softly and pulled Crowley closer, so they were almost flush. 

“You’re very beautiful, you know,” Aziraphale said in a low voice. “Really, the most enchanting creature I’ve ever seen.”

“I - I think you are.”

Crowley’s eyes darted all over Aziraphale’s face, from his eyes to his lips and back. They drew closer and closer until he could feel the ghost of Aziraphale’s breath on his lips, and closed his eyes. All at once, he felt the soft press of Aziraphale’s lips against his, and his world exploded into sensation. It felt like all the world - all the _universe_ \- was focused down on the two of them, and Crowley knew, with crystalline clarity, that he was meant to kiss Aziraphale Fell over and over for the rest of his life. He felt Aziraphale’s kiss in every cell of his body, every atom feeling like it were vibrating with joy, and he parted his lips slightly, tentatively, not wanting to come on too strong, but near desperate for more of Aziraphale’s taste. He could never get enough of his love. Ever. 

He was slightly out of breath when the kiss broke a minute later, his eyes still closed, still wrapped in that sense of unreality. 

“Wow,” Aziraphale said on a breath. 

Crowley smiled and opened his eyes. “Alright, angel?”

“I think that kiss should go down in the history books, my darling.”

“I’d like to kiss you that way more, if you’d let me.”

“Oh, I think I’d be very willing.”

Crowley kissed his lips again, softly. “Good. Can I ask you something?”

“You can ask me anything. What is it?”

“Everyone always asks Santa for gifts, but no one ever asks him what _he_ wants. So I’m asking you. What do you want for Christmas?”

Aziraphale gave him a brilliant smile. “All I want for Christmas is you.”

Crowley relaxed into a smile. “That’s fucking fantastic,” he said, then kissed his date again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this story!! It was a pleasure to write. 
> 
> As I mentioned earlier, there is one more smutty chapter that I’m going to post as a one-shot next Saturday. I’m not sure of the title yet (titling fics is my nemesis) but I’ll come up with something.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and Merry Christmas! 🎄🎅🏼


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